


Here for the Guitarist

by MarvelousEllenT



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), starker - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, groupie! Peter, musician! Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-10-30 20:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17836034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelousEllenT/pseuds/MarvelousEllenT
Summary: Tony Stark is the guitarist for Peter’s favorite indie band, Heart Shrapnel. Peter’s been to more of their shows than he can count, has a blog dedicated to them (but mostly Tony) on Tumblr, and has his dorm room walls covered in posters of the band (but mostly Tony.)





	1. Intrepid

Tony Stark is the guitarist for Peter’s favorite indie band, Heart Shrapnel. Peter’s been to more of their shows than he can count, has a blog dedicated to them (but mostly Tony) on Tumblr, and has his dorm room walls covered in posters of the band (but mostly Tony.)

Peter couldn’t believe that his school’s end of the year festival was hosting Heart Shrapnel for all the students to enjoy for free. When he saw the announcement email just a few days before, Peter set out to find an outfit and gather some inside intel on the venue.

Sporting the tightest black jeans he could get and a t-shirt that basically begged “fuck me, Tony,” Peter ducked in between the tour buses wearing a press pass that he paid his friend in the journalism school to give him the day before the festival.

He didn’t expect to run straight into Tony himself as he rounded the biggest bus.

“Shit, sorry kid.”

Peter’s ears began to ring, he never thought that he’d hear that voice in person, the voice he spent hours and hours listening to (and jerking off to) while watching countless band interviews on Youtube.

He regained himself quickly though, and started to remember the groupie tips he’d gathered on the internet.

“That’s okay, Mr.Stark, I was hoping I’d run into you.”

Tony’s eyebrows raised as he looked the kid over, and when he squinted to read “I’m here for the guitarist” on Peter’s shirt a smirk spread across his stubbled face.

“Oh yeah? And what were you hoping to do once you found me?” Tony leaned against the side of the bus so that their shoulders brushed together and there was a moment when Peter thought he’d lose his shit at the way the older man’s tongue wet his pouty lips. Instead, he took a deep breath and tilted his head up to look into shimmery eyes.

“I dunno, I was kinda hoping you’d answer that for me,” Peter said, inching dangerously close to Tony’s face. Fuck, did he smell wonderful, some spicy mix of citrus and musk, and now he was biting his bottom lip and grabbing Peter by the wrist just hard enough to make his pants uncomfortably tight.

Peter barely had time to notice the other three band members chilling in front of the TV on the bus as Tony dragged him to lounge in the very back, sliding the flimsy door shut before pinning Peter against it. Big, rough hands slipped under the younger man’s shirt to tightly grip at slender, bony hips, and Peter shifted to rub himself against Tony’s flexing thigh as they shared a hasty, sloppy kiss.

“Fucking love pretty little whores like you. You’re begging for it without even speaking,” Tony said next to Peter’s ear, and all he could do was whimper as he was led to sit in the guitarist’s lap on the couch with a stern hand on his growing crotch. “Put your money where your twinky mouth is, baby boy.” Tony gestured to his lower half and Peter scrambled to kneel on the floor in front of him.

It was embarrassing when Peter’s hands were shaking too much to unfasten Tony’s fly, but the older man just chuckled and reached down to help. When Tony lifted his hips to shimmy his pants to his knees, Peter’s mouth watered at the thick, long cock that sprung free. He couldn’t hesitate any longer, and went to work putting into practice all the techniques he’d learned in his first year at college. He hollowed his cheeks around the hot length, feeling it jerk and pulse in his mouth. One hand reached up to grasp at the base and the other took Tony’s sac to rub and squeeze. His mouth and hand worked in tandem, wrist twisting on the upstroke while his tongue did the same to the older man’s leaking head.

“Jesus, you really are a slut. Fuck.”

Peter hummed around the heat in his mouth and looked up at Tony to see his head lolled back against the couch. His hand was grasping at Peter’s hair, not forcing, just using it to tether himself to reality as Peter brought him closer and closer.

“Stop stop stop!” Tony pulled Peter off by the hair and panted through his lust-filled expression. “Can I fuck you?”

Peter felt his cock leak at the question, “Yes, please Mr.Stark.”

Tony practically growled at that as he stood, shoving Peter down on the couch and toeing off his boots to get his pants the rest of the way off. Peter took the cue to start undressing, peeling off his shirt and too-tight jeans.

“Fuck, you really wanted this huh?” Tony asked, realizing the kid hadn’t had any underwear on. Peter jolted and moaned when Tony reached down to squeeze the base of his little, dripping member.

“I’ve thought about this every day for years.” Peter hoped it wasn’t overkill, but the guitarist just seemed even more turned on, plus he was rewarded with a few light strokes of Tony’s hand.

“Well that’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think?” Tony asked, and reached for a small bottle that rested on the end table beside of them.

“I think you’re already e-exceeeeeeeeding expectations, Christ,” Peter moaned when one of Tony’s slick, plump fingers teased his rim. Tony half laughed, half moaned and slowly slid in past the quivering ring of muscle.

“How are you so tight?” Tony marveled, his other hand stroking Peter’s smooth, milky thigh. Peter smirked for the two seconds he could manage before his mouth fell open around a moan, Tony teasing his prostate.

“N-never had anyone in me. Just my fingers.” Tony cursed and shook his head, then added a second finger because Peter was absolutely writhing on his hand.

“No wonder you’re begging so hard for it.” Tony twisted his wrist. The dull pain of the stretch was the only thing keeping Peter from spilling an embarrassing load all over the upholstery. He could hardly stand it when a third finger entered him, torn between the burning and the pleasure of being filled and how fucking gorgeous Tony looked with his pupils blown wide and his broad, muscular shoulders flexing with the thrust of his hand.

“I can take you now, please, Mr.Stark.“ Peter’s hair was sticking to his forehead and sweat kept trickling down his neck in little beads. He was manhandled to kneel on the couch and face the back of it, and he glanced over his shoulder to watch Tony slick himself with lube and line up with Peter’s hole.

Peter was a mess before Tony even breached, almost got off on just the feeling of Tony’s slick head pressing against him. One of the guitarist’s hands held onto Peter’s hip, threatening to leave finger-shaped bruises that the younger man was desperately hoping for. The other hand held the back of Peter’s neck, making the younger man even hotter in the humid little back room.

Peter couldn’t stop the string of curses and moans that were pulled from him as Tony began one slow thrust to finally bottom out.

“God yes, please, just fuck me,” he said, and Tony complied, starting out with slow shallow thrusts that had them both groaning into the sticky air.

The hand on the back of Peter’s neck slipped around to grab him by the throat and pull him back against Tony’s chest. The thrusts got deeper and faster and the sound of skin colliding in a rapid pace filled their ears.

“You’re fucking filthy, kid,” Tony moaned out, “pleading for me to pop your cherry. Never even met me before, just looking for anyone to fill you up, huh?”

Tony bit down on the sensitive spot just behind Peter’s ear and he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a high-pitched cry his cock jerked and spurted long, sticky strings. He kept cumming and cumming, squeezing deliciously around Tony’s thrusting.

“Fuck, didn’t even have to touch you, such a fucking whore,” Tony managed before pushing all the way in, hard, so that Peter was thrown against the back of the couch, overstimulated cock scraping against the scratchy fabric. He nearly screamed, and that sent Tony over the edge, spilling into Peter in hot, long sprays.

“Jesus Christ kid, who are you?” Tony laughed out.

“I’m Peter,” he whispered, earning a deeper laugh from the man who was still inside him.

Tony pulled out slowly and Peter hoped he was discreet about clenching tight. He wanted to feel Tony’s seed inside him while he was watching him from the crowd. Once Peter was dressed Tony slipped a little piece of paper into his pocket, noticing the press pass dangling from a belt-loop.

“This isn’t gonna be on the Rolling Stone site tomorrow, is it?”

Peter was confused until he saw what Tony was staring at, then it was his turn to laugh.

“I’m a bio major.”

Peter almost scurried away in time to dodge the slap on his ass.


	2. Aphasia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is thirsty.

The one fatal flaw of UCLA’s end-of-the-year concert was that it took place before most students’ finals were over. Peter dwelled over this fact as he strolled to his last exam of the semester. One hand wiped sticky sweat from his hairline and the other worried at a damp and tattered piece of paper tucked away in the pocket of his jeans. 

The almighty post-it had Tony Stark’s name and number scratched in black ink, and had been haunting Peter, along with the rest of his memories of Saturday night, for the last 4 days. Of course the number was safely saved in his phone, he wasn’t the ill-fated protagonist in a Netflix Original rom-com. He just liked keeping it with him, it was as much of a distraction as he’d allow himself before his most important final of the year. 

Peter was kind of fucked up about it all, really. He got what he wanted, and it was so good. It was hard to even recall the sensations he felt when he thought back about it. And god, did he think about it. The only study breaks he’d taken were to fuck his fist as fast as he could when he just couldn’t stave off the thoughts any longer. 

But Peter promised himself, no contact with Tony until he finished the semester for good. A good grade on this exam ensured a carefree summer heading into his sophomore year on the dean’s list. 

His hands were clammy as he gripped his number two pencil and he got the familiar anxiety that had always come with an important final. His mouth was insanely dry and his stomach was flipping but this time it was battling with anticipation and arousal. Peter knew exactly what he’d be doing in just two hours. His roommates would all be out, no one at all in the apartment to distract. 

The exam went well, other than the occasional grinding of the heel of his hand into his erection. Enough blood managed to stay north for him to be able to remember most of the material with ease, and he was out of there in an hour and a half. 

He practically sprinted back to his complex; his long, lean legs stretched out the tight, ripped denim, chest heaving with exertion and excitement. He couldn’t even sit still long enough to wait for the elevator, instead climbing the stairs two at a time to get to the third floor. He fumbled with his keys at the front door, letting out an audible groan before bursting through the threshold.

His shoes and his jacket went flying upon entry to his room, he locked the door hastily and peeled his drenched t-shirt off of his heaving torso.

‘Hey Tony, it’s Peter. From Saturday.’

It sounded stupid but he had no time to fret over wording, just sent the text before his ass could land on his futon. 

Maybe he wouldn’t answer for a while, Peter worried. It was noon, and maybe he was sleeping in after a long show. Or maybe he was busy getting ready for the next one. Either way he needed to get off soon, his erection was throbbing against the inside of his jeans, hot and wet and jerking every so often from the pressure of the denim. 

Before Peter started to worry that maybe getting fucked by him and receiving a hand-written phone number just wasn’t enough proof that Tony wanted anything to do with him, his phone chimed and the screen lit up. 

'Well hey Peter, it’s been a while. What’s up?’

Peter’s pulse was radiating throughout his entire body, his fingers shaking so much he could barely type “Fucking Tony Stark,” he growled before replying.

'Sorry for that, I just finished my last final.’ 

He wanted to tell him he’d been thinking about him. He didn’t have a great read on the situation. What did Tony want with him, really? They fucked, it was great, but now what? They didn’t really know each other.

Tony responded surprisingly quick.

'Think you passed?’ 

Okay, so that was a little terse, Peter thought. Maybe he should just get to the point before Tony got bored. 

'I hope so. It was hard to study with this number burning a hole in my pocket. I can’t stop thinking about Saturday’ 

Peter realized it was a little thirsty, but to be honest thirsty was his main personality trait. Tony definitely should have picked up on that vibe. His free hand was stroking and squeezing his cock on the outside of his jeans, the other anticipating the vibration of his phone.

'What a coincidence, you’ve been on my mind a lot, too. What about Saturday, exactly?’

Peter’s breath caught in his throat and he pulled his hand away from his cock, both to keep from cumming and to prepare for a lengthy reply. 

'Been thinking about how full your cock made me feel, how good it felt to be pounded. I can’t stop thinking about your big hand stroking me, and bruising my hips. What do you think about?’

Peter couldn’t catch his breath. His hips were rocking back and forth and his hand found his member once again, this time underneath his jeans, over his red and blue boxer briefs. He couldn’t believe what he was reading, that Tony thought it was good too. He was moaning and gasping at the thought while he stroked himself. 

'How fucking tight and hot your little asshole was, how easy I could push you around, how loud you screamed when I came in you. Oh and your pretty, pretty mouth baby.’

“Fuck, Tony, fuck,” Peter breathed. He stopped touching himself all together and stood, shucking his jeans and briefs as he stumbled to his desk. He pulled out a suction cup dildo, not as big as Tony was he noted, and positioned it in the perfect spot indicated by the overlapping ring marks left on his chair. Another text chimed in the cool air conditioned room as he poured lube over the dildo and his own cock. 

He sat slowly, drowning in the stretching sensation until he had it fully engulfed, then read the second text. 

'Are you touching yourself?’ 

'I’m sitting on a big fake cock, stroking myself so tight. I wish I was in your lap.’

His nipples were hard as he pressed send and he started a good rhythm, fucking up into his hand and grinding back down onto his toy. The only time he’d ever been this turned on was when Tony was fucking him. The reply took a while, but it was worth the wait.

'Fuck, I want that too. I want your scrawny ass bouncing up and down, split you open on my cock til you cry. I could tease you for hours and make you beg to let you cum.’

Peter couldn’t handle it, he was going to explode, he was going blast off into another dimension. 

'Please can I cum daddy? I’m on fire, I want to be good for you but I’m so close.’ 

The reply was almost instant. 

'Yes baby, let go for me.’

That did it for him. That SO did it for him. His ass clenched impossibly tight around his dildo, toes curled into the carpet under his feet. His body felt a deep, warm sensation spreading all over as he squirted hot, white ribbons of semen all over his desk and keyboard. His throat hurt from screaming and he slumped back into his chair, grabbing his phone. 

'Thank you so much, I made such a mess.’

He attached a picture of his load and smirked, wore-out and satisfied. 

'Jesus baby, came so hard, want you to lick it up and let me taste it on you. Want you again so bad.’ Tony attached a picture as well that Peter immediately saved, Tony’s cock standing at attention and cum covering his abs. It made Peter shiver and his cock got a little interested again.

'Wow. I’m dizzy. That was exhilarating.’ 

'I need to have you again, you’re done with school?’ 

Peter squealed.

'Only until August’

The reply came a few minutes later.

'Only until August is good enough I guess. What’s your email, have you seen Australia?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 soon! Follow me on Tumblr!  
> https://starker-filth.tumblr.com/


	3. Visiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty reunion, what else?

“So I take it your final didn’t go well?” Ned asked, dodging a sweater that Peter launched over his shoulder.

Peter let out a yip, lifting his head and consequently snagging it on the corner of an open drawer.

“Fuck! Ned, what? I thought you guys were at your scuba diving final. Jesus,” Peter sat back on his heels and scrubbed at the freshly forming welt on his noggin.

“Well we were until some kid cut his hand and we had to evacuate the water. Everyone passed. Hey, what are you doing?”

“Packing,” Peter sighed. He hadn’t thought much about what to tell Ned and MJ. They all shared an off-campus apartment so it would be impossible to hide a trip to Australia. Plus, they already knew about Saturday. MJ was the one who slipped him the press pass and the deal was to give her every last detail.

“For what? Are you going to visit May? Can I come!?”

“No I’m not. And no you can’t. I’m going to Australia and I have nothing to wear.” Peter stood from his spot on the ground with a pile of clothes in hand and dumped them all out on his bed.

“MJ!! PETER’S GOING TO AUSTRALIA!” Ned shouted, followed by combat-booted trampling down the hallway.

“Why are you going to Australia? Is it Tony?” She asked, and Peter hated her for it.

He tangled his fingers through his messy hair and sighed. “Yes and I still have NOTHING TO WEAR.”

After some minor freaking out and Ned sulking about losing Peter to a sugar daddy, Peter showed them the email Tony had sent him with all of the travel information with flight times and weather and itinerary for the next day. He had to be at LAX by 9 the next morning.

Peter borrowed a few things from each of their closets, some crop tops from MJ and some ratty flannels from Ned, and they helped him gather some of his ‘Sluttiest Fits’ as Ned called them.

It took taking them out for burritos and watching Heathers AND Texas Chainsaw Massacre with them before he could finally call it a night. He really would miss them, and he really needed them to talk his nerves down. He hardly knew Tony, really. Sure, he’d been a huge fan for a while now, but Peter was realistic enough to know that the real Tony was not the one he got. He was sweet enough over the brief exchange they had after their rather abrupt sexual encounter, but he had a lot of re-learning to do.

Once he got into bed for the night he began digging through his social media. He immediately deactivated his Tumblr and uninstalled the app. It was a lost cause, honestly. Luckily he kept his socials more aesthetically minimal and kept his fandom life far from his public persona. He text May a really vague lie and told her he’d call her in the morning. It was hard lying to her, he needed time to work himself up, and he really needed sleep. The next few days would be huge.

 

By the time his alarm went off, Peter thinks he didn’t even blink the entire night. He tossed and turned. He debated calling Tony, but realized that would be just stupid. He text MJ and she just sent him pictures of cute animals. The show must go on, he thought, and began his morning routine. He dressed comfy and cute, it would be a 14 hour flight and he wasn’t sure what the accommodations would be like. He’d never been on a plane before, which was another thing to fret over.

Surprisingly his overstimulated arousal from the weekend’s events had slowly succumbed to his anxiety, and he could only eat a banana as he called May and gave her his story about how a spot for a study abroad trip opened up last minute. There was crying, but she was excited for him. He’d deal with picking up the trail of lies later. He didn’t even know how long he’d be there, but the ticket was one way.

The first difficult phone call was over, and he moved on to call Tony like the older man asked him to. It was about 3 in the morning in Melbourne, but Tony made him promise to call before he started his trip.

His throat was dry and his saliva was thick and he could hardly hear the dial tone over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

A few rings and Tony picked up, there was rustling and a throat clear.

“Hey Peter.”

“Hey, just calling to uh- you told me to call. The Uber’s on it’s way here and I’m all packed.”

“Good to hear, are you as excited as I am?”

Peter grinned. He beamed. He was staring to feel a little more comfortable.

“I’m really excited. Kinda nervous. I’ve never flown before.”

“Don’t be, hon. Once you get through customs it’ll be a breeze. The airline’s gonna take good care of you and you’ll be here before you know it.”

Tony said he’d have a driver pick him up and bring him to the hotel. He’d be getting there around lunchtime and meeting Tony at the hotel before his show. The whole idea of it still baffled him. He didn’t want to ask too many questions, but he was curious about how things were going to be. Would he go to the shows with him? Would they be keeping it on the down low? He’d find out soon enough, he guessed, and left it to his imagination.

“I have to head out now, see you… soon-ish?” Tony chuckled, gruff and sleepy and Peter made a mental note to write it down as his favorite sound in the world.

“I’ll be seeing you, sugar. Keep me updated. Bye.”

Everything until he boarded the plane was a blur. He was extremely confused most of the time and a little nervous about the security and all the commotion. There wasn’t much time left before he was boarding and being mind blown by the plane he was walking onto. There was a little common area that was shared and then separate rooms with beds and TV’s and small tables and chairs for landing and takeoff. He immediately text Tony to gush and got settled in. By the time he was in the air he was so exhausted that al he could do was turn on a movie and fall asleep.

 

The whole semester must have caught up with him, because he slept for 9 hours straight. He woke up to a few messages from Tony, and immediately text back a sleepy selfie. He called his attendant in for a meal request and ate, then passed the time playing games and binge watching Portlandia until he landed.

His interactions with Tony had made him less nervous, but the butterflies were still there. The driver, Happy, helped him with his bags and they were off to the hotel.

Peter’s phone buzzed and he answered with a smile.

“Hey, I’m almost there.”

“I can hardly wait, I have lunch waiting. See you soon sweetheart.”

Peter’s nerves were starting to die down and the elevator ride was more filled with excitement than anything else. Happy lead him down the long hallway. The air was artificial and smelled sharp but pleasant, and Peter felt sort of relaxed, in vacation mode. They finally stopped at a door and Happy, like magic, made himself scarce after Peter knocked.

Tony answered with a grin and wet, fluffy hair. A humid air wafted through the threshold and the older man’s t-shirt was clinging to him like he hadn’t fully dried before dressing after his shower.

“Look at you, you travel well. Come in, let me get those.”

Peter brushed past Tony and into the big penthouse and took in the view. It looked like Tony had made himself at home, a yoga mat was laid out in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. His bags were unpacked and he had belongings sprinkled throughout the suite.

“Sorry it’s a little messy, we’re here for a while.”

“No worse than my room at home,” Peter smiled and turned to Tony.

“You look amazing, come here.”

Peter felt magnetically attracted to Tony when he held out his toned, bushy arms and he looped his own around the older man’s neck.

Tony’s hands sprawled out across Peter’s thin hips and their lips met. Peter was at ease again; he sighed and closed his eyes and let his weight lean forward. It was short and sweet, but the older man didn’t let go right away.

“You must be hungry? There’s lunch on the patio for us,” Tony winked and turned and whisked Peter away to this— this terrace from his dreams.

In his mind, Peter was floating through the air, legs dangling limp behind him, arms outstretched towards Tony as he followed with hearts for pupils.

It all sort of hit him at once, the water and bridges of Melbourne, the lounge on the balcony encroached with plants and flowers, the smile wrinkles on Tony’s face when he turned to look at him.

“Is it too much? Listen, I can send you home no problem, no hard feelings, we can even be pen pals-“ Tony laughed and Peter slapped him.

  
“I’m just speechless. It’s gorgeous.”

“Well shucks kid. C’mon, let’s get you fed and relaxed. I’ll fill you in on the tour drama so far. Nat’s already got a grudge for one of the roadies.”

They got a nice little thing going as they sat down to eat. Tony had enough personality for the both of them, a true shocker, but Peter kept up. There was a certain inflection to Tony’s banter that made Peter think that he was a little more challenging than previous… encounters that the older man had. A lot of eyebrow raising, smirking, impressed looks. It could have been a show, but Peter still felt warmer than he should have in the shade of the awning.

After lunch Tony had Peter lounge on the outdoor sofa while he made a trip inside. He grabbed his phone and tried to snap a few pics. He blushed when Tony found him taking a chest-down shot, flaunting his toned stomach as his crop top rode up, waxlike skin peeking out from under his joggers.

“Yeah yeah, you’re fucking gorgeous, get over it.” Tony joked, settling beside him and turning to trace his calloused fingers over pale skin. Peter shivered but didn’t dare move. He had an internal clock now. It counted up from last time Tony touched him and with every second his skin got more difficult to live in. He got his taste and turned into a fiend.

“You’re one to talk,” Peter finally gathered, just barely, before Tony’s breath was hot against his neck.

“Did all that traveling get you worked up, sweetheart? You’re awfully cranky.”

He said it playfully, Peter was pretty sure of it anyway, but there was an edge to it. Like there was a little something more than innocent teasing going on. Peter instantly flashed back to the tour bus and the filthy exchange they shared in the heat of the stuffy back room. His cock picked up on it too. But before Peter could even think of a comeback Tony was sitting up and away from Peter and holding out his other hand.

A small joint and a lighter sat in his palm and Peter grabbed them both.

“Don’t feel pressured but it is just about time for a post-meal toke,” Tony nearly cut himself off with a laugh when Peter immediately lit it.

“I haven’t smoked since before finals,” he explained.

“The functional stoner. You and I are gonna get along quite well.”

They cuddled and smoked in the sunlight, sharing college stoner stories until the roach burnt out. Peter could tell there was a little tension surrounding their age, but not in a heavy way. More like Tony joked about being old and Peter shrugged it off with a faux dismissive tone. It was clear that they were on the same page here, they were really enjoying each other’s company and had a couple of months to continue doing so.

Age be damned, Tony was magnetic. Peter knew what he was doing, too. His confidence was enchanting, daring Tony. Daring him to be that guy he was when they met for the first time. He stretched out on the chaise lounge and let his top ride crudely high, let his half-hard cock broadcast itself in his too-tight joggers.

Tony was convinced that the stars aligned perfectly to lead up to the miracle before him: Peter’s plush, pale skin quivering underneath his rugged hands. Peter stared up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, waiting. Tony felt divided; the sight was brilliant. Maybe they could stay there frozen in time forever like some beautifully mangled Beauty and the Beast rendering.

Peter snapped him out of it, though, with an angelic little whimper that gave Tony an instant hot flash.

“Tell me what you want,” Tony requested, coasting his hand across the hairless skin of Peter’s abs to squeeze his side.

“I want you to fuck me again. Please,” Peter embellished a little with the flagrant pout but he was a truly thirsty individual and it got Tony to dart at him like prey.

Tony’s nails dug into his neat, sleek skin when their lips met and it was hungry, like the older man really had been craving this as much as Peter did. Tony’s strong thighs trapped Peter where he lazed back and Peter let himself explore the wooly expanse of skin where his shorts rode up.

With the ease of a power-lifter, Tony pulled Peter into his lap and supported him with two busy hand on his rear. Peter instantly began to rut into the closest surface, Tony’s stomach, and vibrated from the sensation. One of Tony’s hands skated under pink joggers to spread Peter’s ass apart. His middle finger prodded at Peter’s pulsating little hole and he had to bite down on a soft piece of flesh at the cry Peter belted out.

“This what you needed honey? Huh? Need me to fill you up again? Once just wasn’t enough for you?”

This is where Tony thrived, Peter remembered all too well. The man could practically finish him off with the smut he spilled alone. This is where the inexperience asserted itself to Peter, that or he really was just too suave for his own good. Between the finger stroking his keen asshole and Tony going on and on about what he wanted to do to him, Peter’s brain was fried.

“Please, I can’t take it. Wanna see your face this time when you fuck me.”

It was his only request and it was a revelation that he even got that out.

“That’s a good guy, tell me what else? You want to see how much I worship your little body, how flawlessly you take my cock? Tell me.”

Tony had positioned Peter to lie back and was tugging on his tight pants, concentrating on the way Peter’s skin got impossibly more bleached underneath his waistline. He focused on his bright pink cock and how it bolted free with no underwear in sight, admired the toned but narrow legs as he finally slid Peter out of his shoes and pants.

“Will you suck me?” Peter was hesitant. He hadn’t done much receiving in his awkward sexual encounters, never knew how to ask. But heaven’s sake, did he want to see Tony’s salt and pepper stubble wrapped around his member.

Tony’s smirk answered his question and, with little impulse, his mouth was swallowing up every last bit of Peter. He had to bite the sleeve of his top and grab a fistful of Tony’s hair to keep from traumatizing half of the city.

Even with a dick in his mouth, Tony Stark was verbal beyond belief. He groaned and gruffed and slurped in Peter’s lap. His hands were just as erratic, one switching focus between Peter’s sac and his asshole, and the other pinched at the impossibly perky peaks on Peter’s chest.

It had to be over way too quick, and in a motion reminiscent of a dream-like resistance, Peter hauled Tony away from his crotch. It should have been a crime, how red Tony’s lips were when he pulled off with a lewd sip.

“If you don’t fuck me I’ll probably explode,” Peter panted, yanking at his own hair, and Tony conceded by shucking his t-shirt and shorts. There was a bottle of lube next to the lighter from earlier and Peter noticed Tony’s hands were unsteady when he picked it up and began to spread it over himself. The younger man felt anxious in a way that his first time with Tony didn’t allow him to feel. There was too much adrenaline, but now that the two were relaxed Peter couldn’t help but waver a little.

Tony noticed it in a breath and was quick to scoop Peter up into his lap, cocks sliding together as they looked at each other close-up.

“You ready to take me? You’re gonna be so perfect for me, I know it Peter,” Tony heartened, stroking the delicate, clammy skin across his partner’s spine.

“Yeah, I’m ready. I need it,” Peter begged. Tony repositioned them, got himself settled against the back of the sofa and handled Peter until they lined up sinfully, Tony’s cock catching on Peter’s rim and making him gush.

“That’s it baby, sit down on it for me, look how much you want it.”

Peter’s dick was jerking and dribbling out tiny, clear beads as he settled into Tony’s lap and the noises felt like they were being ripped from him against his will. It was so, so good. Tony’s cock felt scolding and solid inside him. His cock was rubbing up against the heated, silken skin of the older man’s hairy torso and it all made him feel like he was wrapped in a warm, cushy blanket.

“You’re an angel, Pete, look at you. Tell me how you feel.”

With his eyes rolling back into their sockets, he wasn’t sure how he mustered up the capacity to speak while trying to rock back and forth on Tony’s cock.

“I feel so good, I feel like I was made for your cock. Fuck me harder, please, daddy.”

It had slipped, really, he wouldn’t have said something with such a hard strong connotation if his brain wasn’t being poked, but in the end he was glad it had.

“Oh, fuck, is that how you want it, baby boy?” Tony stirred, perking up where he sat, gripping tighter onto Peter’s hips and bearing his heels down into the cushion. “You need daddy to take care of you? Fuck your little hole until it’s all filled up?”

The end of his sentence was huffed out as he established an unforgiving pace, smacking sounds echoing around their terrace. Peter’s cock was bobbing obscenely between them with Tony’s driving. His only available communication was moans and whines and the occasional affirmation. Tony managed to keep his vocalization intact, sprinkling Peter with worship and praise. He couldn’t believe how delectable this tiny thing was, light and limp in his lap, reduced to only primal sounds. And all for him, something special, something so pure and meant only for Tony. It made his fucking skin crawl.

“That’s it baby, say my name for me, tell me who gets to have you.”

Tony was digging his fingertips into Peter way too hard, he would make it up to him later. Now he had to stave off orgasm because Peter was so warm and wet, so responsive, and fucking latching onto his neck with his perfect little razor-sharp incisors.

“Tony, god, Tony please make me cum,” Peter was a pleading mess now and his muffled little cries were making the crook of Tony’s neck wet.

“No, baby boy, say my name,” Tony was basically begging now. He was so close he could taste electricity on his tongue. It was cute to see Peter wrinkle his face up, in agony probably, and ball his fists against Tony’s chest before his eyes widened.

“Daddy! Daddy please, I have to cum.”

Peter’s eyes were starting to droop, his prostate had to be obliterated by this point, and all he needed was Tony’s hand on his prick.

Tony cooed at him, encouraged him to let go with nothing but a light grip and soft whispers. He did let go, set off all over Tony’s hairy chest and stomach. He collapsed into Tony once more, nosing at his collar bone and telling his daddy to fuck him “sore,” to which Tony bursted in response.

It was a soul-sucking orgasm, honestly, a calamity. He grunted as his hips stuttered into the moaning mess of a man piled on top of him and he let go in long, drawn out spurts that made Peter clench around him every time. In the end they were both just as spent, Peter completely fucked out and Tony strained from the railing.

It wasn’t until Tony had slipped out of Peter naturally that they made any effort to move, Tony to go get towels and waters and Peter to slump off of Tony and back onto the sofa. The older man cleaned Peter up and made him drink, then helped him make his way back inside.

“How was that, sweetheart?” Tony asked once they were lying on the cold and crisp down comforter. Peter was glowing, hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks flushed. Tony wanted to whisk him away and keep him to himself like a divine secret.

“Even better than last time. You keep it up and we’re on our way to breaking some kind of record.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moodboard for this chapter is finally up on my tumblr: https://starker-filth.tumblr.com/post/184242701359/here-for-the-guitarist-ch3-moodboard-you-can-read

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr for the moodboards to this story and more trash!!!  
> https://starker-filth.tumblr.com/


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